Life is small, tiny in the truth of itself,
and yet, the sound it makes, eternal
in that echo of being, resounding, and
bouncing off the hollow walls of time

is enormous, and we stand, listen
and hold to awe, reflecting that so
much can come, from so little, and
that even in the smallest things is

something great, with a voice which
calls throughout the corridors of ages
and demands we listen; holds us to
account in this great, cosmic play.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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